Deep Betrayal (Lies Beneath #2)

by Anne Greenwood Brown

  When she was gone, Calder didn’t say a word to me. He merely wrapped an arm around my body and swam me back to shore.

  “I can explain,” I said.

  He stared straight ahead, his full lips drawn thin and tight. “I doubt it” was all he said.

  11

  NAKED

  When my feet hit the shore, I pushed Calder’s arms off me and staggered to the house. My legs shook under me, and I tripped as I ran up the stairs to the bathroom. I flung open the door, locked it, then filled the tub with hot water until the mirror and the windows fogged over. I emptied what was left of Sophie’s bubble bath into the tub, sure that Calder was outside apprising my dad, telling him how childish and impulsive and reckless I’d been. How I couldn’t be trusted. How I should be sent back to the cities without a chance for appeal.

  How much time did I have? Still shaking, I stepped into the tub and slipped under the mountain of bubbles. Maybe if I promised to never go near the water ever again, they’d let me stay. I was glad Mom had gone with Sophie to the Girl Scout retreat. Neither I nor Dad would want to explain this one, not that he’d been there to see. For a second, I wondered why that was, but of course Calder would never have let him get so close to Maris, so soon.

  There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Through the sound of running water, a muffled voice said, “Lily?”

  “G-go away!” I yelled. “You can’t say anything I don’t already know.”

  The handle jiggled against the lock. “I thought you agreed to stay in the house.”

  I cranked off the tub faucet. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re going to have to work a little harder.”

  “Tell me you’re okay,” the voice said.

  “I’m not okay.”

  There was a click, chick, chick from the hallway, and then the bathroom door slowly opened. Calder slipped inside and dropped my wet skirt on the bathroom floor.

  “Geez!” I grabbed at the bubbles, trying to strategically place them. Sure, he might have been used to nudity, but I wasn’t. He kept his eyes on me but, for all it mattered, I could have been wearing a burka. He was irritatingly blasé about this. Yeah, I knew I was nothing to look at compared to a mermaid’s physical perfection, but he could at least pretend to be interested. I looked over the edge of the tub for a towel.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked.

  “Outside, watching the lake.”

  If not for the fading silver line around Calder’s neck, I would have never suspected he’d just come from the lake himself. He was completely, and infuriatingly, self-composed.

  “Now tell me what happened today,” he said, his voice flat and parental.

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at him and try to explain myself. Instead, I said, “Did I ever tell you I’m allergic to bees?”

  “What does that have to do—”

  “They always know where to find me. There could be ten of us, sitting side by side on a porch, minding our own business. If a bee came by, I’d be the one it would sting.” I looked up at the ceiling above the tub. A long jagged crack ran from the corner.

  “Bees have those special eyes,” he said. “Maybe they’re seeing the same thing in you that I do.”

  “My mom says I’m too willing to open a vein for whoever comes along.”

  “Is this how you’re answering me? You went into the lake because you wanted to ‘open a vein’?”

  “I was …” How was I supposed to explain? It sounded so pathetic. I’d opened myself up to the danger—risked everything—because the lake begged for me. Because I couldn’t say no to it when it asked. Because every cell in my body wanted to be what, somehow, it couldn’t make itself be.

  Without warning, I was crying. I pulled up my knees to bury my head.

  Calder dropped to the pink bathroom tile, grabbing my hand out of the water. Soapsuds slid down his arm. He pressed my palm to his lips, but I pulled back, sloshing water on the floor.

  This was so humiliating. In so many, many ways. I wished I could make myself shut up, but the words slipped out. “I miss you,” I said.

  “This is my fault,” he said. “Lily, listen.”

  But there were things I needed to say. “Those four weeks we were apart were hard for me. I understand it wasn’t the same for you. I’m okay with that. You finally had your freedom. I expected you to go out and enjoy it.”

  “Lily …”

  “Close your eyes,” I demanded. When he complied with an exasperated sigh, I climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself, stomping off for my room and leaving wet footprints behind. I slammed my bedroom door and kicked through a pile of clothes, eventually finding a pair of shorts and a fluffy, oversized sweater. I finished getting dressed a split second before Calder let himself in.

  “I wasn’t having fun being away from you, Lily. Being on my own was awful. I basically borrowed a car and drove. I got as far as Moorhead when I saw a bumper sticker that sidetracked me.”

  I kept my eyes wide open, staring at the wall, refusing to blink and let more tears fall.

  “It was a red maple leaf,” he said. “I’d been trying to remember the name on my parents’ boat for so long, I’d forgotten about the flag. When I saw that bumper sticker, it clicked. I remembered.”

  “The Canadian flag.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You went to Canada.”

  He sat down on the edge of my bed and leaned back on his elbows. “Actually, I went to a library. I got on a Canadian transportation site and searched for vessels with names that started with K or R. Guess how many.”

  I crossed my arms. “How many?”

  “Together, about four thousand.”

  “That’s a lot to weed through. Did you think about crosschecking against stories about kids who drowned?” The moment I asked the question, I wished I hadn’t. He took on such a sad countenance that I wanted to take him into my lap and rock him like a child. Instead, I said, “You already thought of that, didn’t you. So? What happened? Did you find your parents?”

  He shook his head. “There are too many drowned children … or children reported as drowned.… I couldn’t bring myself to read those stories. I did narrow the search to Thunder Bay. That would have been their most likely port. It’s close.

  “And what would it matter even if I did find my parents? They’ve probably forgotten all about me.” I tried to interrupt, but he touched his finger to my lips. “Even if they haven’t, what are the chances they’d believe me if I told them who I was? I wouldn’t look old enough to them. I don’t even know my given name. They’d think I was a con artist or something. But what does any of that matter now?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Your dad and I had the most amazing day today, right up until … well … did you know your dad played three varsity sports?”

  I wasn’t following his train of thought. “So?”

  He shook his head, as if he were trying to explain astrophysics to a toddler. “He’s backpacked on five continents. He knows the lyrics to every Queen song ever written.”

  I covered my eyes with my hand. “Please tell me he didn’t sing them for you.”

  “He was all caught up in some ancient mythology about merfolk being fantastic singers.”

  “I take it there’s been no improvement.”

  “Terrible. Absolutely tone-deaf. But now I know all the words to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ ”

  “Geez.”

  “Jason’s done things. He’s seen things. He’s really lived. Don’t you understand? Being with Jason is like having a real dad. Your dad is like family. Better than that. He’s family who needs my help. That’s why I’m spending so much time with him, Lily. Can you understand this? I wish I’d found him years ago.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

  He sat up and leaned toward me, taking my hand. “Why would you say that?”

  “If you’d found him when I was Sophie’s age, I doubt thing
s would have worked out the same way. First off, my dad would probably be dead by now, and I wouldn’t have you.” If I have you. No matter what he said, his actions spoke louder. There was no denying he was spending far more time with Dad than he was with me. I couldn’t make eye contact anymore.

  “You know how much I need you,” he said.

  “It’s stupid—with everything else going on—to feel this way.”

  “What way?”

  “Like you’ve traded me in for my dad.”

  Calder tipped my chin and kissed me. “I know you just got dry, but how ’bout I show you something. It will do a better job of explaining than I can.”

  “You don’t mean we’re going swimming. What about Maris?” A chill ran down my arms.

  “I was thinking more like a virtual swim.” He sat down on the floor and he pulled me down. I straddled his lap, facing him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He fixed my sweater so it didn’t bunch up between us.

  “Now,” he said, adjusting my weight on his legs. “I know, in the past, you’ve preferred to resist this, but let me have my way with you, just this once?”

  My cheeks burned. “I thought you said something about a virtual swim?”

  “Look into my eyes, Lily. Relax. I want to show you something. Someone, actually. I want you to understand why I’m spending so much time with your dad. It’s more than just needing to train him, and I don’t want you to be anxious anymore.”

  I exhaled slowly, releasing the tension in my shoulders. I leaned in, staring into his beautifully clear green eyes. “Where are we going?” I asked, as they intensified in color.

  He didn’t blink. His irises burned with an inner fire I’d allowed myself to see only a few times before. His pupils dilated and, involuntarily, I leaned in farther. I felt myself falling into him, but my forehead never bumped against his.

  His fingers trailed up my spine, and although a part of me knew I was still sitting in his lap and in my bedroom, another part of me was giving way to his hypnosis and equally convinced I was underwater.

  Instinctively, I held my breath. Calder’s lips were on mine, filling me with air. A cold burn flashed along my arms.

  He made me believe he was swimming me deeper, farther into the lake, past the southern tip of Madeline Island, through surprising patches of warmer water. We dodged lake trout and whitefish, swatted at loons as they dove for prey. The low, muted bumps and high, metallic clinks of the marina faded behind us. They were soon replaced by an unfamiliar vibration that trilled along the lengths of my arms.

  Calder responded to the change in sound with a change in direction. He tucked me gently under his arm and bore southeast. Eventually, we surfaced in an unfamiliar spot. The lake was calm with only a washboard ripple of waves across the surface.

  “Cold?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur, his eyes still piercing my own.

  “No,” I said. “I’m a mutant, remember?” He rolled like a seal in the surf, pulling me on top of him. His heart beat against my chest.

  “Well, c’mon, you creepy mutant.”

  I gulped another lungful of air before he rolled and dove, bringing me down to depths I didn’t think I should go. Leaving the security of the air, I waited for the pressure to crush my lungs, but I never felt more than a firmness about me—like the water was holding me—my mind let go of earthly concerns, leaving the world behind, my thoughts slipped to the Lady of Shalott:

  She left the web, she left the loom,

  She made three paces thro’ the room,

  She saw the water-lily bloom …

  This is it, I thought. The pressure on my body made me believe I was about to turn. Every thirty seconds, Calder sealed his mouth on mine. I searched ahead, following the line of his arm, which stretched out in front of us like a prow as he swam. Eventually, a dark spot took shape, growing as we drew closer, until it became a crumpled mass of dark, splintered oak, a broken mast, vacant portholes staring out at us like a many-eyed sea creature. The name J. P. Brodie was written in large script across the stern. Calder pulled me along to the starboard side, to the third porthole. On the other side of the glass, I could see part of a black coat and a button decorated with an anchor. Calder gestured for me to come closer.

  I smiled, accepting his invitation, and peered through the window. A second passed, and then a dead man’s pasty face bobbed ghoulishly across the porthole. My stomach hit my throat.

  I scrambled out of Calder’s arms to find myself standing in my bedroom—dry and disoriented and gasping for breath. “What the hell was that?”

  Calder smiled impishly up at me from the floor. “That was Joe. He never changes. We can thank the lake’s cold temperatures for that. Nothing bloats or rots.”

  “That’s disgusting!”

  Calder shrugged, surprised by my revulsion. “I found Joe in ’74. I visited him regularly after that.”

  “Why?” I was going to have nightmares for sure. It was going to take a lot to erase the pasty-faced corpse from my memory, and I already had plenty of nightmares to deal with.

  “He’s a good listener. Maris wasn’t what you’d call the nurturing type. Do you understand what I’m telling you now? Up until I met your dad, Joe was who I turned to. He was the closest thing I ever had to a father.”

  Compassion tugged at my heart. How selfish I’d been. “I’m sorry. I take back everything I said before. Have as much time as you want with my dad.”

  “No. I get it, Lily. I need to find some balance. You are the most important thing to me. Don’t ever doubt that. You saved me from hell. I don’t ever want you to feel left behind.”

  “Does that mean you’re not taking my dad out again tomorrow?”

  His ears flushed, and he looked away. “I’m afraid I have to. Now that Maris knows Tallulah is dead and you’re, well—not—we’ll need to be extra vigilant.”

  “Do you think she’ll buy your argument, that the debt has been paid?”

  “I hadn’t considered it before, but judging by what I saw of Pavati today, she’s had a taste of life without Maris’s Hancock obsession. She doesn’t want to go back to living with that. I’m hoping she’ll convince Maris that it’s time to move on. Right now, I’m more afraid of Maris’s grief than retribution.”

  “I don’t get that.”

  “If Maris’s grief becomes too unbearable, if she loses control of her emotions, it’s not just you who should stay off the water. Despair will take over her mind, and she’ll go on a binge. The lake will turn into an all-night buffet. That’s what I mean about vigilance. We’ll need to keep tabs on her. Pavati, too. She’s no less dangerous. We don’t need any more surprises.”

  There was something I’d been thinking about since getting Jack’s card, something that would have been impossible before. But if Calder was switching gears from avoiding Maris to actively looking for her … “Calder, I think you should warn Maris and Pavati about Jack.”

  “Warn them?”

  “He’s trying to expose them. If they go on a killing spree”—I shuddered at the thought of all those helpless, unsuspecting people—“they’ll be playing right into his hands.”

  “You might be right about that.”

  “If you can find Maris, do you think warning her will even make a difference in their attack rate? They’ll still be mourning.”

  “Maybe. If they’ve retained any concern for self-preservation.”

  I bit my lip. There was one more thing I wanted to tell him, or not tell him, I wasn’t sure which. The former won out, and I spoke quickly before I changed my mind. “If you need help finding Maris … um … When I was lying in the water … For a second, I thought I could—”

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “But—”

  “Be careful what you wish for, Lily.”

  “I just—”

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking, I should take you on a date.”

  The non sequitur caught me off guard. “A date? I thought we were talking about�
�”

  “A date. Like a real couple. We can’t sneak around forever.”

  That made me laugh, and it felt good. “I didn’t think we were sneaking.”

  With his index finger, he tucked my hair behind my ears. “Your bedroom isn’t exactly the social epicenter of Bayfield, Wisconsin.”

  “I didn’t realize Bayfield had a social epicenter.”

  “Absolutely. Every summer the town does ‘Summer Tuesdays.’ They show movies on the side of Oleson’s barn. The whole town goes.”

  “O-kay-ee.” I dragged the word out into three syllables, wondering what Jules would have to say about this.

  “So, movie on Tuesday?” he asked.

  “I guess I could stand a little normalcy.”

  “Exactly my thought. Only one problem. They’ve got a theme going. Each Tuesday is a movie from a different decade. They’ve already done Rebel Without a Cause and Beach Blanket Bingo.”

  “So it’s the seventies?” I ran through a list of possibilities in my head. “Saturday Night Fever?”

  “As if we had that kind of luck. They’re showing Jaws.”

  I squirmed as the iconic cello and bass played the E-F notes in my head: da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

  Calder read my apprehension easily. “Maybe we should postpone the date. Next week it’s Ghostbusters.”

  I laced my fingers through his. “Nope. This will be perfect. Deadly sea creatures are my favorites.”

  “Oh, right. I knew that,” he said, and he pulled me under the waves again.

  12

  DATE NIGHT

  Two days later, just after dinner, I stood in the upstairs hallway, wondering what smelled so rank. From the top of the stairs I could see my room and bedding strewn across the floor. Laundry—dirty and clean all mixed together—lay in heaps among books and crumpled paper balls. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I thought I’d found the source.

  “Are you going to strip your sheets?” Mom called up the stairs. “I’ll do a load if you bring it down.”

  “Maybe we should burn it all,” I yelled back, entering the pit of shame.